


Autonomy and High School Are Mutually Exclusive

by MediocrityPrinciple



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School, Monster Tom, School Dances, Self-Esteem Issues, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18728023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediocrityPrinciple/pseuds/MediocrityPrinciple
Summary: Tom-centric High school AU of EddsWorld. Tom doesn't know how to handle his monster side, Edd and Matt are kept in the dark, and new kid Tord is too interested and opportunistic even though he actually doesn't really do anything.First fic posted so dunno what I'm doing. First chapters (including start and end notes) were written roughly a year ago even though I'm just starting to post them now. Starts slow-ish and ends quick.





	1. The Troublemaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fiction. Although based on Eddsworld, which is based on real people, this fic has no affiliation with the official EddsWorld nor do the characters have any affiliation with any real people.  
> In the spirit of this, I’ve picked some random (and I mean namegenerator.biz) surnames for our protagonists so please don’t correct me in the comments :) thanks!  
> This takes place in a streamline Middle -> High School (Edd and Matt went to the same primary school and only met Tom when he transferred in late middle school)
> 
> I have an exam tomorrow, but instead I spent the whole day today researching UK schools and writing this gem. Highfive.

His usually spiky hair was slicked back, and water dripped from it onto his dark blue hoodie. The reflection of the lighter flame flickered in his dark eyes as he held a 16G hollow needle above it. When the metal turned a luminous shade of orange, he dipped it in a nearby bottle of Bass Ale where it sizzled and bubbled before he brought it back up and lined it up to his helix. In a sharp jerk of motion, Tom forced the needle through the layer of cartilage. He repressed his voice to a small grunt, unable to tell if the burning was from the pierce wound or actual residual heat from the needle. The blood from the needle entry point, as well as the skin of his head adjacent to his ear where he’d pricked it, slid down to mix with the water that’d dripped from his hair.

His forearm and hands enlarged and darkened in complexion, but nonetheless he held the needle steady. His ear phased changed sporadically, resealing each time it turned to mist only to be re-pierced by the bloodied needle. Again and again and again his cartilage was shattered until his pounding heart slowed in beat to a diminuendo. Still, he waited until the acute agony dulled to a throb, by which time the last rays of sunlight had been snuffed out by the coming of night. 

-

“Thomas, you’re 20 minutes late of being marked present on the roll. Go to reception.”

Tom didn’t pause in doing a 180 straight back out of his forum room, his blank expression remaining unchanged. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, interrupted only by the beeping of his Doro phone as he looked through his old files for the photo of his locker code. He headed to the locker with gum wrappers, crumpled worksheets and other trash sticking out of the edges. It took a couple of tries to unlock his lock (0, anti-clockwise to 18, full circle clockwise then to 23, then anti-clockwise again 32) and even more to pry it to release. 

The locker door squealed on its hinges as Tom pulled it open, not bothering to pick up the bits of rubbish that tumbled out from its sides - maybe the sods who’d stuffed it there in the first place would have an environmentalist streak. He didn’t have much of a purpose for visiting his locker since he barely ever used it, retrieving a decrepit Marlboro’s pack and tossing in a couple of notebooks that he likely wouldn’t need for the heck of it.

Tom cringed when the raucous ring of the school bell sounded throughout the halls and swung his locker door shut, ignoring the concerned glances and disapproving stares of students bustling to their first class as he repeatedly kicked in his lock until it finally clicked secure. By then, the hall was teeming with students and his frayed, faded shirt and ripped jeans were in stark contrast to those around him, like a sun-starved stem amongst a vibrant container garden. 

Math passed in a blur, and at break he went out to grab some food, only to get lectured by his Ancient History teacher when he arrived midway through the lesson. Tom spent the rest of the lackluster lesson with his AGPTEK blasting Dookie to drown out his Ancient teacher while he worked on his composition for Music extension. Translating his hasty scribbles (amongst doodles that left the page more inked than not) and transcribing them onto Sibelius--a software that took up far too much CPU for the early fourth generation laptops the school coughed up for key stage 4 students--helped the minutes flow by faster.

The movement of the students around him gathering their belongings signalled to Tom it was the end of the lesson. As they started to file out, Tom glared at one that knocked his backpack off his desk, but they only spared him a glance in return as they exited. Tom decided to call it when the Spinning Wheel of Death graced Sibelius, by which time Tom’s Ancient teacher had singled him out and was fast approaching, so Tom wasted no time in lazily stacking his own belongings, backpack included, into a pile and carrying them as he strode past his teacher. He could just faintly hear the stern ‘Thomas’ of his Ancient teacher calling after him as he began the journey to his next class on the other side of campus. The noise of the crowded hall was drowned out by the chorus of Burnout.

Tom managed to slip his books and laptop back into his backpack just as he approached his level in S block. As he filed into the classroom, he felt someone press against his arm. He took out an earbud and turned to face whoever it was that lacked a sense of personal space, unsurprised but not disappointed at the gleeful face that greeted him.

“Hey Tom! Keen for some Chemistry?” Matt said as he steered Tom toward their seats. Matt was a good couple of centimeters taller than Tom which was only accentuated by his red hair that he styled up. Tom took out his other earbud and sat down before lamely replying,

“Was that rhetorical?”

Matt’s smile widened, but he didn’t get to respond before the teacher called for their attention to start the lesson. Tom laid out his notes neatly like a journal article: complete with headings, subheadings, detailed explanations of the content and structured in clear steps simplified with diagrams. He was pretty proficient at Chemistry, gaining the tolerance of his relatively strict teacher, and could ace the subject just by paying some attention in class as well as a night or two of studying the textbook before the exam alone.

Throughout the lesson, whenever Matt asked ‘wait, what?’, or ‘are you sure he’s still speaking English?’, or clearly didn’t copy the down the information before Mr Macintosh prematurely flipped to the next slide, Tom would start highlighting the relevant parts on his own notebook for Matt to silently follow. At some point during the lesson Matt hit his mental limit and only revived with the ring of the school bell indicating the start of break. Tom passively listened as he trudged out of the classroom alongside Matt who maintained a one-sided conversation with him. His eyes gravitated to the forest green clothing of an old friend who approached their classroom.

Edd sent Tom a warm smile when they made eye contact and Tom relied on the obscurity of his eyes to justify why he turned away seemingly without acknowledging Edd. He made his way through the halls, hearing Matt’s quick goodbye to him and hello to Edd and focusing on Matt’s voice as he excitedly continued his previous tangent to Edd. He continued to focus in on Matt’s voice until he exited the building. What he didn’t notice was the concerned glance of Edd that followed him until he too turned away to go his own way with Matt.

Tom’s lungs stuttered as he breathed in ice cold air. Most students retreated to the relative warmth of the school canteen during breaks which left the outer areas of the school more or less deserted. Tom passed by a group of mostly seniors kickin it with nicotine and experimental ICE in the alley between the pothole ridden staff carpark and the gymnasium, returning the nod of greeting as he went past. He camped at a secluded spot underneath the back stairs of H block, fishing out his own cigarette pack and lighter. The temperature juxtaposition burned his throat, but not as much as the nasty taste and pungent stench of the stale cigarettes. 

Getting his fix curbed Tom’s agitation as he tried to recover his Sibelius file from earlier, finishing what was in the pack by the time break ended. He watched the last sparks be snuffed out by the cold, his eyes following the ashes as they sunk gracefully but inevitably to join the filthy cement below, before he stuffed what was left of the filter back into the pack with the others and tossed the lot in the bin by the door of his next class. 

Mr Ceeow, a teacher that had no worthy competition when it came to raw enthusiasm for teaching, couldn’t stop himself from pausing a documentary about American conflicts in the late 20th century every 5 minutes to interject. Tom had his head resting on his arms which spread out across a whole desk since, despite Mr Ceeow’s best efforts of promoting a tight-knit learning environment by taking away extra seats beforehand, groups clumped together regardless.

Before too long it was Music Extension and Tom went to retrieve Susan from the back room in A block exclusive to Music Extension students. She’d been there since he dropped her off before going to forum that morning, secured to the railing with a bike lock on a top-back shelf. His fingers cracked as he jammed the key into a second lock that locked Susan’s case. Tom relished having the period to experiment for his piece in one of the soundproof stall-like rooms. 

Before he knew it, the lesson was coming to an end all too soon, so he reluctantly packed up early. He made his way back to the secluded back-room of A block to re-secure Susan. Satisfied with his work, he went to head to his locker before the end of school stampede. His fingers, aching from finger picking, throbbed as he inputted his locker code. He zipped up his backpack and grabbed Susan ready to go but paused. He wasn’t in the habit of going to his locker, and knew it was likely to happen again, but nonetheless collected and disposed of the trash that’d fallen from his locker door that morning.

The exit sign flickered in sync with the ringing of the final school bell. He was well past the school gates before the ringing ended.

-

The music blasting through Tom’s earbuds drowned out his parent’s shouting match as he made his way up the narrow stairs of the rinky-dink RTB-bought council house. His door was distinguished by a large ‘Do Not Enter’ sign along with a myriad of 90’s Britpop and punk rock themed posters that littered its surface.

He closed his eye holes. It was the end of another normal weekday for Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t a song fic but I wouldn’t have written it unless “This Is Home (audio cover)” made me relapse into the EddsWorld Fandom (there’s this whole part about the mc’s eyes going dark and monsters and if that isn’t my boy TOM). I’d also recommend the remix “Cut My Hair” by Mounika.
> 
> EDIT: Here’s some of my structural planning for the fic. You won’t need it but if you’re interested:
> 
> Compulsory Subjects:  
> English  
> Math  
> Physical Education (PE)  
> (a science)
> 
> Tom Mcevoy: 1990 (same grade - bumped up to Matts grade. IRL dude has an insanely high IQ (look it up) so fic version is the same)  
> Music (with Matt)  
> Chemistry (with Matt)  
> Design Technology (With Ed)  
> Physics (with Tord)  
> Modern History (With Tord)  
> Music Extension (with Matt)  
> Ancient History  
> Greek
> 
> Matt Marton: August 1989 (same grade)  
> Art and Design (with Ed)  
> Spare (With Edd)  
> Music ext (with Tom)  
> Chemistry (with Tom)  
> Biology  
> Theatre Studies  
> Psychology  
> Drama
> 
> Tord Pedersen: September 1989 (same grade)  
> Modern History (With Tom)  
> Physics (with Tom)  
> Media Studies (with edd)  
> French (with edd)  
> Biology ( with Matt)  
> Chemistry  
> Government and Politics  
> English Language (afterschool?)
> 
> Edd Rosenfeld: October 1988 (grade above - class sizes small for his unpopular subjects hence combined with the year below to fill)  
> French (with Tord)  
> Art and Design (with Matt)  
> Design Technology (With Tom)  
> Psychology (with Matt)  
> Spare (With Matt)  
> Media Studies (with tord)  
> Computing  
> Science 21
> 
> S block: science  
> H block: humanities  
> A block: arts  
> M block: maths


	2. The Floater and The New Kid

“It is named the North Sea Link. The practical applications of the content this term are of great interest to me, and this proposed 1,400 megawatt cable structure exampl- exemplifies this, yes?” 

The thick accent of a voice Tom had never heard before was distinctly audible to him over all the morning bustle. His legs moved on autopilot toward his physics classroom as he focused on trying to place the accent, only to be shocked out of his thoughts by the shrill ring of the school bell. Tom could feel the erratic pounding of his pulse beneath his tingling skin; the other students seeming to slow down as the hallway walls appeared to creep in on him. Tom ducked to the side of the corridor and leaned against a water fountain, slowing his breathing and waiting for his heartbeat to follow suit before he hurried into his physics classroom. 

He kept his gaze low as he entered, heading for one of the sunlit seats at the back of the classroom, only to spot a backpack on the last free one and begrudgingly settling for second row. Without the privilege of the window to hold his attention, Tom let his eyes wander around the room. Its’ low roof and bleak, grey walls were standard for the school and emitted the warmth and life of a brick. His attention eventually landed on a student that sat two seats to the left of him with clothing that juxtaposed the cool colours dominating the room, and Tom spent a moment to consider the student.

Aside from the red hoodie, Tom took note of the unfamiliar kids’ light brown hair that was peculiarly styled with two tufts at the front as well as his steel blue eyes that flitted back and forth as he skimmed through a textbook. Tom slouched and let a sigh escape him, leaning down to retrieve his own physics textbook from his backpack only to be stopped midway by a stern voice spitting his name.

“Thomas Mcevoy, please remove those plugs from your ears and step us through question seventeen’s answer”

The tuneless sound of Mrs Phole’s nasally voice was an unwelcome one that in no way did Tom want to hear with more clarity, but obliged nonetheless as he scanned the question projected onto the whiteboard. It was part of the chapters’ introduction so it was general and luckily preceded by some context. There was a long pause of silence, broken only by the sniggering of a pair of students in the back row.

“Power equals force times velocity” was Tom’s eventual reply. Mrs Phole looked unimpressed.

“And just how did you reach that answer” Mrs Phole pressed.

The frustrated tapping of Mrs Pholes nails on the desk muddled with Tom’s line of thinking as he tried to organise his abstract thought process into the discernible steps the teacher demanded. After a minute had passed, Mrs Phole opened up the question to the rest of the class, and Tom sunk further into his seat and hunched his shoulders. Finally, someone responded and Tom did a double take when he realised it was the voice he’d heard earlier that explained the details of how the equation could be rearranged and simplified to reach the answer.

“Thank you, uuh” “Tord.” the student in the red hoodie finished. Mrs Phole now looked much more delighted, and while Tom generally didn’t hold lasting opinions against his peers on account of not knowing most of them, something about this one didn’t sit well with him. The sounds of the classroom faded away as Tom spent the rest of the lesson skimming through the rest of the chapter.

At the end of the lesson, Tom could feel Mrs Phole’s eyes crawling on him as she gave him a disapproving once-over when he exited. He mentally committed to arriving on time to his next physics lesson to ensure a back-row seat. Tom went to the corner store a block away from the school and picked up a pack of grapes before heading to A block for his Music lesson.

Matt was already there when he arrived, taping away at an electric piano keyboard with a small group of other students. He slammed his fingers onto the keyboard to lift himself up and wave when he saw Tom, startling those around him and eliciting shady glances toward Tom that went completely unnoticed by the ecstatic red head. Tom briefly waved back before heading to the powerpoint at the back of the classroom to charge his laptop. Sibelius was still opening by the time Matt had situated himself beside Tom, once again demonstrating his lack of spatial boundaries. 

Tom was caught off-guard when Matt began gushing about a ‘cool new student’ in their grade, his name familiar like a shoe that unexpectedly became less fitting with each use. Matt spent the majority of the lesson raving about how Tord was a ‘new boarding student from Norway that was really smart and had a whole collection of Japanese comics or something as well as a vested interest in politics and..’, with Tom passively listening as he fiddled with the notes on his software. It wasn’t until Tom saw the movement of other students packing up their stuff in his peripheral that he finally interjected.

“Matt, if you don’t mind me asking-”  
“I do.”  
“...”  
“...”  
“...”

“but why exactly do you care so much about this guy?” Tom finished, finding it strange that Matt would speak with so much adoration about someone other than Matt himself, much less a relative stranger. Tom expected a whimsical answer at best, not at all what Matt actually answered with.

“Because he’s basically part of the trio now! Edd’s super close with him. Plus, he said he’d buy me ice-cream!!”. Tom was a little dumbstruck by the revelation but shoved it to the back of his mind as he parted ways with Matt on account of the school bell sounding.

Almost an hour of Greek later and Tom’s temples were throbbing. He skipped getting an actual lunch, opting to feast on the few packed grapes left from earlier. He idly wondered when his rare trips to the secluded H block stairs became a common occurrence as he made his way to the back of the building. 

Thoughts of Edd and Matt and this new Tord guy seeped into Tom’s mind. Overall, he was glad to know that they were making new friends and seemed happy. Though he couldn’t shake the feelings of alienation and loose ends that came with his old friends, and despite his best efforts in remaining neutral and unaffected, couldn’t suppress the more sinister feelings that their new friendship with Tord stirred up. He crunched down on a grape, teeth recoiling at the coarse texture of the stem still attached to it. 

The small distraction allowed for enough of a pause in Tom’s mind for him to kick off the friable wall and head to the gymnasium alley. He made it to the staff carpark before deciding to turn back, only for a pale arm to hook around his neck from behind. The scent of maple had Tom relaxing back a little into the contact, uncoiling the taught springs in his muscles and silencing the alarm bells that drove his instincts.

“Hey, if it isn’t the Tomster!” Hellucard greeted, tightening his grip in a mock attack before Tom slipped out, “bit early for you to be going to Phys Ed, eh?”

Tom feinted an elbow jab, but Hellucard didn’t even flinch. Like most, he was taller than Tom. The older teen also sported dirty blonde hair and turquoise eyes.

“I was heading to Jon’s crew by the a-” Tom stopped mid-sentence, head dropping to directly face the black pack that Hellucard somehow held with one hand, “is that...”

“Four ice cold Smirnoff’s? Then yes. You gonna join the A-Team for this one?” He replied, jiggling the pack for emphasis. A chuckle escaped Tom (which earned him a mock-offended scoff) at the name, one that only Hellucard used to describe his friendship group that loitered around A block. Tom hesitated on the offer, ultimately declining after he focused on discerning the pissed off mumblings about how annoying it is to ‘adopt some edgy lone underclassman’ by one of the A-Team members who sat on another Smirnoff box at the edge of the carpark as he waited for Hellucard.

“Your call man, this one’s on me anyway. Sick helix by the way”, he said as he tossed a black can to Tom who caught it on reflex.

Tom watched as Hellucard hurried back up to his friend, overhearing parts of their conversation as he worked on pulling the tab of the can open.   
“wasn’t enough for everyone anyway.. doesn’t mean you had... part of the group for like half a..... every other as well.. ditched....”

Tom turned around, sipping the bitter drink as he made his way back to H block for English. The liquid burned his throat with each swallow, both from the taste and the cold, but he relished in the way it dulled his senses. The buzz wasn’t much, but it lasted all through English and into design technology. Tom didn’t even notice when the lesson started, clicking around StetchUp aimlessly for most of the lesson before having a feeble attempt at making a maze. 

He was so focused on crafting his virtual labyrinth that he didn’t register the person addressing him until he looked up. A second later and he was sobering up, his eyes locked with the stout brunette.

Edd began to say something, only to be stopped when an arm slunk around his shoulders. 

“Hey Edd, so glad I was able to find you. We are going to ‘check out’ the library now?”

Now all eyes were on the new addition. Tord.  
Though Tord seemed to only see Edd.

Tom took the opportunity to collect his stuff and head out, noticing that the room was empty aside from themselves. He hadn’t even noticed the final school bell ringing and couldn’t tell how long he’d stayed back after, which would probably explain why Edd approached him. He pushed his way out the door, speed-walking through the sparsely populated halls.

He could just barely hear the animated talking from Edd behind him as he made his way out with Tord. Though awkward if not tense a mere minute ago, Edd now sounded so happy and carefree. The notion put Tom’s mind at ease.  
Things were better this way.


	3. The Candidate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom reflects on Tord's presence over the two weeks since he'd arrived. Matt overspeaks and probably can’t keep a secret to save his life. Edd stresses and Tord schemes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The descriptions of middle school Edd and Tom are from one of the episodes (can’t remember which one but I took a screenshot) where there were bubbles of Tom’s life panning across the screen and one of them was of Edd and Tom (as described in this fic) but in a room.  
> WARNING: small political debate(?). It's a recreation/modelled loosely off one that happened in my high school and fit with these characters. If you don't like the content of the views written, refrain from taking it too seriously, but if you feel the need to comment on it please do so in a respectful manner.

Tom collapsed on his bed. The rest of the week and the one following had gone by rather uneventfully, except for all of the minor occurrences that presented themselves since the coming of Tord.  
Tord was barely a blip on Tom’s radar. He had mixed feelings about him, but refused to analyze them. All he knew for sure was that his opinion of the guy wasn’t helped by the fact that he just happened to fall into Tom’s old friendship group. But anything regarding them made Tom more guarded, and it was by his own doing, so he knew he wouldn't fault Tord for that nor any ‘bad vibes’ from when they first met. It wasn’t even worth mentioning.  
What was worth mentioning were three events in particular that really rubbed Tom the wrong way. Tom closed his eyes as he relived them.

~

The first was during a Chemistry lesson. Mr Macintosh side eyed Tom as he entered the otherwise empty classroom. Without comment, Tom sat in the seat that Matt usually steered him to and the classroom remained quiet until the other students began filling in. Tom’s hearing locked onto his accented voice before he saw him, and soon enough Tord entered the classroom with Matt in tow. The two chatted avidly, which would explain why the usually punctual Matt was one of the last entering students. When Tord picked up the conversation, Matt looked toward Toms direction and smiled with more intensity than before and Tom watched as they approached their table.

Except, Matt never made it to their table, because Tord rerouted them to two seats on the other side of the row to sit next to someone called Paul.  
Tom had kind of accepted that Matt would sit next to him in Chemistry; it was part of his routine. The gesture hit him like a splash of cold water in the face on a rainy day--shocking but irrationally so considering the circumstances--moreover something he didn’t think would and resolutely refused to allow to bother him.  
Nonetheless, his chest clenched, and he tried to focus on Mr Macintosh’s lesson only to find himself listening in on Matt’s voice like a dog conditioned to expect a meal on the hour. Tom tried to distract himself by spreading out all of his Chemistry books and backpack to utilise the extra table area. His meager belongings didn’t cover the expanse.  
He resigned himself to getting used to the extra space next to him. The space that stayed empty from then onward.

 

The second was during a Modern History lesson. Students filled the room in packs, the words “Conflict’s between International Powerhouses: The Cold War” written in red on the whiteboard going largely unnoticed. The faded pen didn’t compare to the red of a familiar hoodie that stole Toms attention hoodie. Tord took a seat somewhere on the other side of the classroom. The desks were arranged like a “U”, yet another one of Mr Ceeow’s efforts in bringing everyone together, so Tom had full view of Tord.

Mr Ceeow began the lesson by bringing attention to the whiteboard which adorned the terms topic. He flipped through a slideshow refreshing the class on political ideologies and concepts such as the Horseshoe theory and political spectrum before briefing everyone on the Cold War.

“Sir, why are we learning about a war between America and Russia when we’re in the UK. Also, it’s not really a war without fighting.”

Even though it was critical, the student’s question rang like engagement to Mr Ceeow and the excitement it spurred from him was tremendous. Without missing a beat, the teacher started firing explanations about how it was a time of geopolitical tension between the two nations and that the term ‘cold war’ denotes a state of conflict between nations that does NOT, in fact, involve direct military action but is pursued primarily through economic and political actions which can be devastating in their own right so this unit highlights the principle of propaganda, proxy wars and ideological conflict but really there is possible a link to Britain considering some historians like Christopher Sutton posit that the Russian Revolution is the true origin of the Cold War and is a result of British intervention in the Russian Civil War in 1918..........

Mr Ceeow didn’t stop rambling until midway through the lesson, where the red rose up his cheeks like a thermometer and he quickly turned the lesson back around to the class with a classroom discussion. Tom listened in and mentally formed his own ideas and arguments but decidedly did not want to verbally participate. That was, until the conversation moved to political ideologies and Tord spoke up.

“Communism is clearly the superior system - high employment and education without the fuss of a polarized society. The Soviet Union would have prospered because Marxist theory evidently holds water.”

Without conscious thought, the words escaped Tom with a harsh edge,  
“Holds water? The only water it holds has millions of bloated corpses swimming in it.”

The room fell silent, the shock of other students reflected by Tom himself. Even those who were clearly not paying attention to the discussion were now lending an ear to the discourse. Tom did his best to ignore the stares and landed on Tord’s eyes that were trained on him for what he believed to be the first time.

“Just because it hasn’t been successful in the past,” Tord replied slowly, “Does not mean it is not a viable solution. It just hasn’t been implemented in the correct way yet.”

Something in Tom refused to back down. It was a political discussion that felt personal.

“Hasn’t been done correctly yet? Communism relies on the government to control almost everything - it’s a recipe for dictatorships to exploit because power invariable corrupts. So just what is the ‘correct’ way to do it?” Tom challenged, “There is none. It’s inherently flawed because nobody is going to want to work the hard jobs if they get paid the same as the florists and tour-guides. Everyone would be living on welfare because increasing taxation correlating with income-increases directly contradicts the principles of work ethic.”

Mr Ceeow squealed with glee. Tord’s glare fell upon Tom like an icy sheet. The rest of the classroom seemed to fall away as Tom met it with mutual scrutiny. 

“There are ways to keep people working in such a society, life is not all about giving the people carrots. A strong nation would not rely on them but would be self-sufficient.” Tord’s words were once again measured, bordering on zealous, “Money corrupts. The Manifesto designates social equality where everyone is equal. Is this not an important value?”’

Tom didn’t hesitate in his reply,  
“Not if it’s achieved through equality of outcome rather than equality of opportunity. If it’s a moral argument you’re making, the latter will always win.” 

“Pfft and capitalism is SO much better” Tord shot back sarcastically.

Tom opened his mouth to retort only to be cut off by the teacher.

“Great going boys! This is just the type of discussion you ought to be having and it really shows how political differences can quickly escalate, bravo. How about we move on and open the floor back to the rest of the class, does anyone else want to jump in? Anyone heard of the Cuban Missile Crisis?” 

The class discussion continued for the rest of the lesson, but never reached the level of heated debate between Tom and Tord. Neither spoke up again for the rest of the lesson.

 

The third was Design Technology. It was a subject that Tord didn’t even take, but rather the only subject that Tom shared with Edd. Something about the way Tord was there to drop him off at the start of the lesson and there to pick him up at the end of the lesson, the way he wrapped his arm around Edd... It didn’t sit will with Tom. Tom couldn’t shake the feeling that they were too close too soon. It wasn’t because Tord still needed directions because, even if Tord was a new student, the school wasn’t too hard to navigate. Blocks M, A, S and H were lined with the boarding house at the end. The bad vibes were back and this time they were harder to shake.

~

Tom opened the drawer of his bedside table without conscious thought. Memories washed over him like a flash-flood him as he stared at the framed picture that lay there. It was of Edd, Matt and himself in front of a campfire when they went to Matt's parents camping place up in the Durdam mountains during middle school summer break. Matt, who was dressed in all sorts of fancy camping gear, was holding the camera and obviously angling it toward himself. Tom’s lips twitched up as his gaze fell upon Edd, eye-covering bangs and all, who was squeezed in the middle as he pulled Tom into the frame by the waist. The younger version of himself raised the horns and couldn’t hide his braces as he smiled. Tom felt a pang in his chest and averted his eyes.

Although the changes Tord brought bothered Tom, that’s just what they were - changes. Tom believed his feelings were just a temporary consequence of a transitional period into something different. He disliked Tord, but it wasn’t like he’d be interacting with the guy ever anyway.  
He shut the old picture in that dark draw in his equally dark room and did the same with his new concerns deep within his mind.

-

Matt and Tord walked from their biology class to the lockers to meet up with Edd. Tord split off to his own locker as Matt continued on. Tord vacantly packed up his books until an awfully familiar name in Matt and Edd’s quiet conversation caught his attention.

“...Tom’s locker”  
“aand what about ‘just Tom’s locker’?”  
“It’s been vandalized again. I just... I really wish I could help Tom. I really wish he’d let us in again.”  
“Uhhh help him?”  
There was a pause in the conversation and Tord looked past his locker door to see what was happening. Matt approached a locker with paper and the like stuffed in the crevices of its door and sides and removed the trash. It didn’t take long, both Tord and Edd's eyes glued to him as he dropped it in a nearby bin. He then called over for Tord and launched into talking about peptides as the three made their way out of the building.

-

Tord and Matt leaned on a railing adjacent to an ice cream van that played, what Tord perceived to be ear assaulting music but Matt bounced happily along too, as Edd went to a nearby vending machine.  
“Say, Tord, there’s this kid in some of my classes. Tom. What is the deal him?” Tord asked. Matt took another long lick of his strawberry ice cream with a puzzled expression before clarity overtook his features like a jolt of electricity.

“Oh My Gawsh!” Matt exclaimed, “I never formally introduced you to him! Well he plays the bass and his favourite colour is black, well it used to be but not sure now, and he used to hang out with us heaps but nowadays he kinda does his own thing.”

Tord processed this information as he watched Matts focus being stolen by the task of licking up pink liquid as it dribbled down his slender fingers.

“And what is the reason behind why you went your separate ways?” Tord prompted.

“We didn’t go our separate ways. Tom might sometimes go solo-”

“Yes, that.

“-But he’s still part of the crew. It just happened. He got colder sometime after middle school, and not in the actual temperature way; around the time he got his braces off and instead got all those neat piercings and I swear I saw a tattoo on him! I wonder how painful they were.” Matt finished, licking through more of his ice cream only to bring a hand to his forehead and whisper ‘Brain Freeze’ with a look of utter betrayal.

“Don’t you think that is a bit... ah how to say... not normal?” Tom said, keeping an eye on where Edd was fighting with the vending machine.

“No? Lots of people changed after middle school, like I started wearing contacts. Tom’s change was more drastic is all. Besides, he wasn’t totally by himself, he just hung out with seniors and those guys at A block more. Edd said they were shady and a bad influence on Tom though. Speaking of which, why not ask Edd all these deep questions? If there’s a reason, Edd would know since he was the closest to Tom.” Matt replied, crunching down on the cone to punctuate it.

A smile crept onto Tord’s face, Matt’s answer having satisfied him. It, along with all the incriminating rumours he’d heard about this Tom character--about his home life, his alleged past relationships, what he does in his spare time--confirmed Tords speculations. Thomas Mcevoy, the boy who dared to dispute him, would be a fitting pawn.  
He watched as Edd approached, a relieved smile gracing his features as he clutched a can of Cola.

Tord did love a challenge.


	4. The Target

Another week melted by and gave Tom enough time to adjust. School no longer felt like it was warped by a Tord-sized stamp, instead having gone back to it’s near-original state. Just as shitty as before.

At morning break Tom hung with the A-Team, sipping on amber liquid in lieu of an actual meal. He’d been gravitating toward the group more and more at the insistence of Hellucard, who he sat beside as the blonde was immersed in the group conversation. At the end of the break he went to Ancient History, where his Ancient teacher added tar to the Monday slog. He was expecting much the same from Chemistry.

A slap on the back hit that expectation right out of him.

“Heya Tom!” Tord greeted.

Tom almost jumped out of his skin. He mulled over the benefits of that, considering Tord’s hand lingered on his shoulder-blade.

“Hi?” he lamely replied, eyes squinted in confusion as he maneuvered his way away from Tord. Tord ignored the gesture and continued,

“Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard lots about you from Matt.” He dropped his hand from where it lay on Tom and Tom stilled himself from moving away from the other boy; they were almost at the table anyway.

“Right...” Tom said, before ducking to his seat.

When he looked up there was the smiling face of Tord as he tossed his books on the table right next to him. Tom couldn’t hide the surprise that seeped onto his expression.

When Matt arrived, he was ecstatic that they were sitting next to Tom but for most of the lesson he conversed with Paul who sat beside him on the other side. The lesson went on with Tord talking to Tom conversationally, and when that dried up every now and then, it became actually Chemistry related. Tom was ready to bolt when the school bell rang but had to wait until the rest of the row had left to walk out and by the time he was at the door Matt had started asking him questions about the lesson. When the opportunity arose he cut the questioning short and went to break away, only to find Tord boxing him in on his side, his smile just as goading as always. It would have been awkward to drop back because Paul was there, listening to Matt from behind Tom to make their line more compact in the hallway bustling with students. Tom took a deep breath and released it, engaging minimally to the conversation as he was steered to the canteen.

Trepidation set in his stomach like a cold stone as he approached a table he knew too well. Edd was already there, his eyes flipping up to Toms and this time it was clear they made contact with his. Tom paused, only to be urged onward by a push from behind by the hand that’d found it’s way back to his shoulder blade.

“Hey Tom.” Edd said warmly, though a touch of astonishment remained in his voice.

“Hey Edd.” Tom replied, slightly strained, but found his chest lifting at the reward of Edd’s smile. Matt jokingly demanded that Edd greet Tord and himself as well, considering how it’s ‘basically abuse’ to ignore him (Tord somehow now being excluded from this part of the rant). Edd rectified his grand mistake, and from thereon Tom was mostly a spectator to the easy conversation that ensued.

 

At the end of break they split up, Tord tagging along with Tom for Modern History. The attention made Tom’s skin crawl. Tord offered him some of what looked like a thin waffle (courtesy of the borders department) since he had apparently noticed Tom didn’t eat anything. Tom waved him off,

“I ate at morning break. I don’t want it.” He defended.

“Are you sure?” he said while holding it threateningly over the bin, “Because I’m not going to eat it.”

There was a pause where Tom wasn’t considering the offer.

“Positive.”

Another pause.

“If you say so.” Tord chucked it as they went to Modern History. Tord never left his side and so Tom found himself dealing with the talkative Norwegian for the whole lesson and right up to his music extension classroom.

\--

This phenomena, where Tord clung to Tom only for him to find himself pushed toward Edd and Matt in the process, continued consistently for the majority of the week. Tom felt slightly out of place engaging with the trio, but by the third day time had slowly but surely worn that perturbed feeling down. Matt, being the atrociously picky eater he is, had even fallen back into his old habit of handing off the food that didn’t fit his narrow criteria to Tom who, even after a year without it, almost instinctually played along.

Sure, he still didn’t like Tord all that much and didn’t know why the guy was suddenly so attached to him. He had history with the other two, but it was hard to fathom what Tord saw in him and it disturbed him to not know where he stood with the guy, but his friends felt like home. _Maybe, just maybe,_ Tom thought, _this’ll all work out fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way too long to write, sorry it's so short. About the not eating thing, his monster side craves a lot but can survive on very little, so Tom can get by on eating less than others while disincentivising the monster to come out, so it’s a win win. I just realised I’ve only slept for 2 hours in the last 24 which probably explains my lethargy. I'm getting better with grammatically correct dialog but if anyone picked up mistakes I'd appreciate a comment with a quick explanation on how to fix xoxo


	5. The Runner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m beginning to condense my timeline. It's a work in progress, thank you for sticking with me this far!

Everything was decidedly not fine, or at least not as fine as he’d expected. Tom never thought of himself as an optimist but he supposed friendship had that kind of effect on him.

At morning break he was confronted by one of the A-Team members who’d decided to indulge in the rare luxury of a canteen meal.

“The boys got bagels and you’s know that gluten shit don’t agree with me” he snapped back with a tone that everyone at the table took as accusatory and aggressive but Tom knew it to be conversational, “I’d almost deal with it over this crap though.’

Tom expressed his agreement in a low voice which was the only sound, along with the small motions of him pushing the assortment on his plate around with his fork being the only movement, that emanated from the table. Disinterest was etched into his being.

“Speaking of the boys, they just started warming up to ya again. They’ll be right miffed to know you ain’t been skulking around but instead headed back with these sods. What gives, the bottle finally fucked you up enough to settle for anyone Thomas?”  
Tom felt the floor give way underneath him at the question, a question laced with petty disdain but delivered in a veil of light amusement. The sense that he wanted to get a rise out of them didn’t escape Tom, who collected his bag with the canteen exit in sight, food all but forgotten.

“ _Tom_ is here because he wants to be, I should be asking you what gives you the impression that you can talk to him like that.”  
Edd said, strong voice raised enough to be heard without distortion over the ambient canteen racket. The words rushed past Tom’s ears like water as he stood. He knew the conflict was with him. He couldn’t risk it. Leaving was the only way. He needed to.  
Before he could make his escape, a hand on his arm paralyzed him.

“I gives it. C’mon Tom, I want to see Hellucard’s face when we tell everyone where you been. You don’t belong with these schmucks.”

“Fuck off, man” Tom replied evenly, though only lightly tugged his arm away to test the other teens steadfast grip. The hold only tightened, the face of the offended darkening at the feeble attempt.

A feeling of wrongness sunk into Tom’s body, anxiety worming its way through his veins and bloating with panic with each rapid pulse of his heart. On any other occasion he’d throw a punch to get out, but not in the middle of a crowded canteen. He was in a highly populated area, Edd and Matt were ware there dealing with one of Tom’s burnout pals, he tried to leave and it wasn’t working. It all multiplied tenfold when a familiar tingling assaulted Tom’s extremities. His mind raced along with his pulse. He had to get _out. LEAVE._

“Hey, hey, no need for theatrics Tom. And you, what a pleasure it has been to be in your company. You’ve been here for so long now, will your food not get cold? Better to take it out to eat with that group of yours before break time is over, yes?”

Tord placed his hand where Tom’s arm was being grasped and the senior recoiled. Tom was sure the now spectacle-fishing glances from their peers sunk into and diluted the older teens conviction.

“Decent idea, innit.” He conceded, and left Edd’s table as casually as he’d come.

The experience left Tom suspended, grounded only by Tord’s arm that still lay on his. Even though the senior had left, Tom still fought for each breath as though it was behind a thick polymer layer, fighting the enlargement of his arms and legs and ears. When Tord’s arm dropped down, he barely had time to register the anger on Matt’s face before it morphed into concern and Edd’s remaining affronted expression before he stormed out of the canteen.

-

The ringing of the end-of-break bell assaulted his sensitive ears and drowned out the sound of his enlarged nails scraping the brick wall behind the toilet. When the shrill ring cut off, Tom’s mind was brought back down to earth, or more specifically the bathroom stall he’d locked himself in. He thought it was a miracle that he still had half the mind to hunch so that he wouldn’t be seen over the stall door despite doing nothing to hide the sound of his claws shaving the hardened clay. His arms and legs were twice their normal size and obsidian black and a stout tail of the same colour overflowed from his lower back. His face was numb. His mind felt like it was drenched in thick molasses.

“Well, fuck” he eloquently expressed.  
Purple mist obscured his vision and when it dissipated he was a meter closer to the ground and unlocking the stall door with human hands. 

While the ice-cold water streamed from the bathroom faucet and washed the coat of brick-dust from his hands and underneath his nails, Tom pointedly ignored the suspicious but mostly astonished stare of a kid who looked three years too young to be in high school.

The day weighed heavily on his mind as he headed straight for the school’s exit.


	6. The Assimilated

“Tommy, would you mind staying back for a couple minutes? I’d like to have a quick chat”

Tom paused in packing away his laptop, eyes minutely widened as he processed the request of his Modern History teacher who stood before him, having just dismissed the class. Tom’s stunned confusion was only broken by a nudge to his side by Tord as the red-clad boy stood from his seat. He gave him a discrete ‘ooo someone’s in trouble’ look, complete with a smug smile, and filed out behind him followed by Patryk and Paul.

Tom had half a mind to glare at Tord as he left, his feathers still ruffled by their debate on the morality of government surveillance spurred by the class topic today of the Gestapo, before refocusing on his teacher. When most had left the room, Mr Ceeow began.

“I just wanted to say how proud I am of you Tom.” Tom continued to dumbly stare, “I won’t lie, I was worried about how you were adjusting when you first entered my class. You’ve always quietly academically excelled, but you were very... Socially reserved.  
Yet now, you engage so readily and passionately in class discussions! Your insights really benefit the class, I’m so glad to see you’ve broken out of your shell. More than that, I’m glad you’ve finally found your tribe.”

A genuine smile split across the old teacher’s beaming face while Tom was more like a wall, frozen and uncomprehending. After half a minute of unblinking silence had passed, Tom slowly thanked the man, mechanically collecting his belongings and making his way out of the classroom.

That was... unexpected. He processed the interaction like a computer running a buggy software, barely registering the warm and light feeling he’d been left with. How warm and light he’d felt for a long while now. It was a feeling that was easily quashed by the sight of the toilet door near the canteen. It was adorned with a padlock and a large yellow sign indicating it was closed for renovation.

The high school bathroom had been deemed structurally compromised, therefore hazardous and off-limits to students, which had caused quite the uproar among students as it was the closest amenity to the canteen. The outrage spurred incriminating rumors to run rampant; though most did not pertain to structural damage and nothing about a purple monster getting into a fistfight with a brick wall. Tom remained weary nonetheless. He tore his eyes from the sight, shoving his earbuds in to drown out the incessant hallway shoving and buzzing as he continued on his way to A block. That blunder haunted his psyche, kept his new-found confidence and sense of belonging in check.

It was so much easier to dissociate from his surroundings without Matt’s constant questions and chatter that Tom knew only his responses would sate, Tord’s disagreeable ideological opinions that grated Tom’s nerve’s and always goads him into refuting, and Edd’s unassuming attempts at interaction that had Tom’s gut coiling with guilt and longing for a long left friendship. With them by his side, a place the other three boys insisted in clinging to despite his intentional aloofness, he couldn’t resist the constant pull back into reality; a loud, stifling reality of too many people in too little space for far too long. Everyday he feared the monster inside him would take over. He was one slip-up away from having the world know his secret. The risk was all too clear to him, and he knew dissociation was the most effective way to ward off the beast that fed on his adrenaline, his pain, his anger, ready take over at any given time.

Yet, the longer he stayed at his friend’s side (Tom didn’t even realize when he had started to consider Tord a friend, just that one day the accented guy was in the same category as Edd and Matt), the more he began to rely on them. He forgot what it felt like to have allies at your side, real allies, not like Jon’s crew or the guys Hellucard hung out with. From there, it was a slippery slope. Just like he couldn’t pinpoint when Tord had taken a status of such high esteem in his life, he didn’t see the signs of his increasing dependence on his friends. Maybe he just didn’t want to.

He raised his hand in a brief greeting wave at Matt as he went to the back of the classroom to charge his laptop. As he watched Matt approach with a smile that brightened the dull room more than any music could, he vowed to himself:

Just one more semester.

He’d give himself just one more semester with these friends of his. Then, he’d use the holiday break to regain his footing. After, when the school doors would inevitably open once again, he’d disconnect from his ever-present companions and force his life to go back to the grey stream it had been before Tord arrived. Predictable. Isolated. Mundane. Safe.


	7. The Wingman

“This dance. It does not interest me, I am failing to see what good it will be to me.”

“Aww c’mon Tord, it’ll be fun!”

Tord opened his mouth, then hesitated in his answer. Tom looked over with disinterest painted into his very being. He watched as Tord looked across from Matt, the puppy dog eyes having no effect on him, to make eye contact with himself. Tom stared back, the apathy written into his soul seeming to be mirrored by Tord. They connect with their mutual detachment, bonding over it almost.

Then, very suddenly, barely contained amusement ripped across Tord’s face. Tom braced, an instinctual part of him knowing that he’d just bore witness to the birth of some trademark-Tord-scheme, all the while he watched completely helpless to stop it. He didn’t know what awful plan specifically, but dreaded as Tord refocused on Matt with his mask of pleasantness plastered back on.

“Alright, I will come.”  
Matt whooped with childish-glee.

“But only if Tom will also come to the dance.” 

Tom didn’t skip a beat. “No.”

Matt released a fake-whimper, deflating beside him. Tord was unaffected, face remaining neutral.

Tom elaborated, “That’s my final answer. Nothing to do at a school dance.”

“If you will not come, then Edd or I will not be able to enter.” Tord said.

“Fuck’s with that?” Tom shot back. Matt’s eye’s flipped between the two.

“You will know that Edd is in the grade above. He does not have the ability to enter unless invited by someone in our cohort.”

“So Matt can invite him?”

“And if so, then Matt cannot invite me. External students have a separate dance with the external students of the sister school.” Tord finished. Matt released a melodramatic-gasp in horror of the tragedy of it all, turning pleading eyes toward the indifferent teen at his side.

“Paul? Patryk?”

“They’re taken”

“Ah. Still no.”

Matt protested with new drive, but all attempts to reinvigorate the persuasion process fell flat until they had to split up for their respective classes.

-

Tom was wilful in his answer, but nothing shaved the spirit like Matt’s constant pleading. Though Tom would never admit it out loud, he couldn’t escape that he truly was not immune to Matt’s puppy dog eyes. It didn’t help that at the canteen Edd seemed to light up at the news that Tom was ‘considering coming to the dance’ (Matt’s words, not Toms). Tord insisted every now and then along with Matt, just to keep him going, but otherwise observed in quiet amusement.

A fortnight was all it took for Tom to crack. It was all too easy to rationalise: a last get-together with the group before he cut himself off. This would be his last give before he reaffirmed his resolve for next semester. A goodbye party as it were. Not that he told them such.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Tom continued to idly sip on Strongbow, unfocused eyes downcast. He needn’t look up at his friend’s reactions as he could practically feel the excited energy radiating from the trio (it masked the slight disbelief well).

“Miraculous!! We can meet-up before the dance starts and all carpool toget- oh wait!! Before that we’ll have to get suits and we can totally go shopping together so w-

“Is it now too late to withdraw my conditional acceptance.”

“I’m glad- uuh- it’s great you’ve come around dude. I guess we’ll all be going together then!”

Tom covered an exasperated sigh, or maybe a small smile, with a swig of his drink. It burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue heavy? That’s right. This fic is approaching its quick conclusion.


	8. The Ally

Many-a-days were spent planning for the dance, mostly lead by Matt who was on the school dance committee. His proposal to buy suits together was unanimously rejected (much to Matt’s despair) but Edd did eventually agree to carpool with his eager friend. They offered for Tom to join them, but when he realized it came with the added hours before the dance for more preparation and dress-up, he insisted on taking take the bus. Tord was also invited to spend time with the pair before the dance, but after little thought, ultimately declined. It’d take too much time and effort to coordinate with his legal guardians and the boarding house to be given permission to leave.

Soon enough, the evening of the dance was upon them.

Tom arrived arrived by foot and made his way to Tord, who stood at the venue’s front chatting with Paul, in time to see a white porsche pull up with Matt and Edd. The red head, decked out in a dark suit with a purple sheen, over-excitedly waved when he caught sight of his friends. Edd followed amicably, more low-key in his choice of trousers and green collared shirt. Tord also had a collared shirt, Tom noticed, though his was white with a red tie. Paul, who was now taking his leave, was similarly dressed in formalwear.

As if the whole dance situation wasn’t already uncomfortable enough for the lanky spiked-haired teen, he couldn’t help but analyse himself in contrast. Although Tom generally didn’t share the fears of judgment experienced by his peers for how he acted and looked, his angsty teen hormones (as the health teacher would call them) sent a spike of anxiety through his system. Compared with his friends, he was underdressed in his faded black button-up and jeans he’d grown too tall for at least a year ago. He’d managed to nick some decent (the term being applied forgivingly) dress shoes before he left home, but his slicked back hair had returned to it’s natural state and his face had recently lost a fight with his hormones. 

He pushed his thoughts to the side to briefly wave back to Matt, following as Tord stepped forward to meet them halfway. The night doesn’t improve as the quartet entered the gym-turned-amature-dance-venue, complete with a disco projector light and shitty DJ. Comically, the girls were cramped in bundles on the left side of the room while bundles of boys largely inhabited the right, a mix of bundles wriggling in the centre more or less in time with the song. A few brave scouts venture to the opposite sex’s side, but otherwise the wings remained stagnant. Tord whistled in faux appreciation, then they made their way to the dance floor.

-

Tom was happy to be able to mostly lose himself with his friends throughout the first few hours of the evening. It was the synthetic beat of a DJ Snake remix (who even remix’s a remix’ed song) that grated on his senses and made him finally decide to take a break. He dropped the excuse of needing a smoke before breaking away from the group and toward the exit.

The fresh, cool air engulfed him like a blanket and he reveled in the dulled noise of the night. The door swung to close behind him only to be stopped by a hand at the last second.

“Too... What is it they say... Hot to handle for you inside?” Tord’s accented voice greeted him.

Tom glanced back and shrugged, pulling out a cigarette pack from his back pocket. Sure, he needed to keep consistent with his excuse for leaving, but he also just really needed to wind down his senses.

“Pfft. Not much of a party without drinks.” Tom said. Tord smiled.

“Rumor tells, the boarders are better at making much of a party.” Tord said, tone conspiratorial. Tom made his intrigue known, and they headed to the boarders dorm.

-

Night was coming as the two teens sat sprawled out in the secluded spot underneath the back stairs of H block. They’d snagged as much Strongbow as they could carry as well as a ratty blanket from that were stashed in the boarder’s dorms. By now they’d powered through a couple bottles each and had settled into easy if not slurred conversation. It was a peace that wasn’t even disturbed by Tords decision, made in his stupor, to list off all the unrestrained rumors of Tom that circulated the school. To a normal person, it might have sounded like Tord had been specifically investigating and collating such incriminating information, but on the other hand the school truly had a knack for the public economy of outrageous rumors and falsities of just about everyone.

“It wasn’t all lies though.”

Silence.

“Huh. Which part?”

Tom locked eyes with Tord, fully serious, and proceeded to shove his empty glass of Strongbow down into his throat. He struggled a bit on the shoulder, so popped out his jaw joint until he reached his full capacity at the width of the body of the bottle, all the while maintaining dispassionate eye-contact with Tord who watched on in horror and... 

“Well. Fuck me.”

Tom held the position for a moment longer, before pushing the bottle back out in one easy motion.  
“Fuck no.”

“Fuck- You know that is not- Fuck you...” Tord stammered, trying to grasp sobriety. Tom’s laugh rang throughout the adjacent carpark, surprising even himself, but he was soon joined by Tord. They laughed and laughed and giggled and cackled until falling into companionable silence, the cigarette smoke clearing as their alcohol lay forgotten on the pavement.

-

Maybe ten minutes, or two hours later, the silence was broken by the indistinguishable tune of Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows by Lesley Gore (with a few record scratches littered throughout to qualify as an authentic DJ remix of course) emanating from the gym and Tord’s responding groan of frustration and utter resentment. The teeth gnashing song spurred a passionate rant from the shorter teen and a moment of self-proclaimed genius from the taller one. Tom rose from his cement seat, stealing the blanket from a protesting Tord to tie one end around his neck to wear like a cape. Nothing would drown out a dead song from the 1960’s better than some classic bass guitar.

 

It all happened so fast. One minute, Tom and Tord were leaning on each other as they stumbled into the room exclusive to Music Extension students where all of their instruments are stored. Then, the sight of Susan laying haphazardly in a corner, discolored with spray paint, and some chords snapped while a small group of teens concealed by the dark giggled as they threw aside their current victim, a now hot pink and green violin. In the next minute, a shout of pure rage burst from Tom, startling Tord from his tipsy-ness.

He phase changed, purple smoke enveloping the pair as enlarging shoulders pushed cabinets of expensive instruments dominoing to the sides. Before he could process a single coherent thought his rational mind went dark.

-Tord’s Perspective-

Tord’s world seemed to slow down as his tall, pierced friend that he’d spent the evening with was engulfed by some sort of purple mist and emerged almost twice his size. And one-eyed. With horns. Plus claws and canines bigger than his entire head. A... Tail?? Not to mention the-

“Get out of here you helsikken!!” Tord shouted as he rushed to the group of squealing delinquents. He started shoving those that froze in fear or confusion, narrowly missing the lethal swipe of a violet claw. He managed to vacate the room of students, mind racing as he tried to comprehend the creature who's rage could be heard emanating from the darkness in the from of crashes, tears, and guttural growls.

All too soon, the room was pierced by the light of the courtyard outside as the monster tore through the back wall. Tord called after him, for Tom, but his shouts fell on deaf ears as the creature ran through the opening and into the night.

Calm settled on A block once more, bar the sobs of the shivering students that had almost been at the receiving end of the creatures wrath. Tord snatched and threw the phone of one into a wall before they dialed 999, barely registering his own words as he colorfully admonished and yelled at them to ‘get lost’ in a mix of English and Norwegian. Finally, in somewhat of a haze, Tord made his way back to the gym knowing he’d have no ability to catch up with the bea-Tom. At least, not by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tord possibly being mischaracterized here? Pfft no. Nope. Not at all. Also shoutout to the random guest who left a kudo because I would've totally forgotten to post today if not for the email notification.


	9. The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially the last chapter (aside from the epilogue).

Tord re-entered the gym, the heat and sweat palpable in the air since the students had loosened up a bit with time. He spotted Matt and Edd dancing along with their peers, the former of which was dancing with much more vigor. Tord squeezed his way through the swarm, gaining the attention of the two and leading them to the less crowded side of the gym with little fuss. Edd seemed grateful for the break, his fair skin blotchily flushed with heat and exertion, while Matt was unusually closed off.

“There you are Tord, we were wondering where you’d run off to! We looked for a little while but...” Edd trailed off, a hint of guilt lacing his voice before he switched gears, “Where’s Tom?”

“I will explain on the road. Matt, is your car still in the school?”

“Yeah, but why?”

“I need it. We have to pick up Tom. Now.”

“Huh?” Matt said, features painted with reluctance. His eyes darted to Edd and back. They were having so much fun together...

Edd could see the cogs turning in Matt’s head. The red-head had been off since Tom and Tord disappeared, though it’d been fine since then, until Tord interrupted them. Neither knew the situation with Tom, but Edd saw what he guessed was Matt jumping from conclusion to conclusion about the state of their more reserved and alcohol indulging friend. He looked back to Tord, seeing nothing but serious urgency, and made a quick call.

“Let’s go Matt. I can drive.”

Matt’s face immediately scrunched like he’d tasted something sour, but he quickly turned his face away and ultimately his posture drooped in defeat. Across from him, Tord released a relieved sigh and turned to lead them toward the exit.

-

The trail wasn’t hard to follow. When they reached the demolished A-block wall, Tord jumped from the car to retrieve Susan, then began his explanation of the Tom situation as they followed the trail of debris and scratch marks. It was received with varying degree’s of disbelief and questioning, especially of Tord’s intoxication status, but the teen insisted that whether they believe him or not is up to them but first they needed to ‘find their the stupid friend’ in question.

When they reached a small park the trio headed out to look on foot, reluctant to call for Tom as it was nearing midnight but growing increasingly desperate nonetheless. Almost an hour passed before they spotted an unusually large figure looking as if it was attacking an old beech tree. Edd shrunk behind Matt, who was adamant that they give the suspicious figure a wide berth, not only because ‘really we shouldn’t be out here anyway. It’s so late the dance is probably over by now. Whatever you think happened while you and Tom were drunk is probably warped anyway and besides Tom’s probably caught the bus home by now’. Tord, on the other hand, pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight to directly shine it on the figure.

“Tom?”

Under the light the obscure figure, which didn’t so much as pause in it’s pursuit of destroying the tree by repeatedly body slamming between scratching it, was unmistakably Tom. Taller, with small violet... horns? And similarly colored claws as well as a darker complexion couldn’t mask his recognizable hair, eyes, and face. If that wasn’t enough, he still adorned the ratty blanket around his shoulders, which lamely countered his nakedness. Tord was just grateful he wasn’t still the monster he’d changed into earlier, otherwise this would have been a whole lot harder.

The three were at a loss for words, seeming to stand frozen as they all processed the sight before them. It was Edd who broke the silence once this time.

“Tom!”

The boy before them whipped around with no recognition passing over his features as he spotted his three observers. Matt threw his arm up in between the creature and Edd, the worry and the little bit of fear in his face masked by a brave front. Tord continued to silently watch, dictated by his overwhelming fascination of this organism before him.

The crea-Tom released a bone-chilling growl, but the interruption seemed enough to break his trance as he proceeded to clutch his head and fold to the grassy floor. Tord recognised the purple mist from before and watched intently, along with the other two beside him, as Tom’s various abnormal spikes receded and his complexion and extremities returned to their usual colour and size. In a matter of moments, all of which were filled with the muffled growl-like noises and grunts of pain, Tom was fully human again and panting on his knees and one hand while he used his other to clutch at his head. 

Edd was the first to run and hug the exhausted and disorientated teen, followed by Matt throwing an arm around his back while Tord settled for placing a hand his cloth-covered shoulder. There was a lot of explaining to do.

-

When they’d all parted ways for the night, Tord snuck back into his dorm and collapsed into his bed sometime in the morning hours before the sun rose. While sleep was high on his list of priorities, he began to ponder the new developments. In short, today had taught the young man that nothing went to plan for Tord, not like he’d thought at least. He couldn’t even blame it all on Tom, because he knew he himself was guilty for corrupting what was meant to be a manipulative and one-sided relationship. Now, he’d somehow made a friend(?). Albeit, a powerful one.

The teen sighed, mind now switched on and his thoughts running wild. Eventually, the soft glow of the morning sun leaked into the dorm room’s shutters, casting a warm beam of light across Tord. The aureate glow illuminated Tord’s face that’d pulled into too-wide smile. He decided an ignorant but powerful ally may be even more beneficial than a mere pawn in the long run.

The thought rung like a lullaby, and the teen was soon blissfully asleep.


	10. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes beyond the scope of what I ever planned but I’ve read other fics that end with a little epilogue summary so here we are!

Matt covered the costs of fixing Susan and casually returned her to Tom. Tom was extremely grateful. The group that vandalized the instruments in A-block were caught when a couple of them reported to the authorities about the monster, not knowing that Tord had anonymously tipped off the police about seeing a group ‘on some hardcore drugs, some graffitiing and smashing the instruments while others experimented with what looked like some home-made explosives near the wall’. He was even so kind as to sprinkle some black powder (that may or may not have been from a certain gun collection that he may or may not own) around the scene before he snuck back to his dorm that night to fool any lazy/overworked U.K. detective.

The boys spend much of the semester holidays together, including a weekend stay in the Durdam mountains. It takes a little while for Edd and Matt to come to full terms with Tom’s condition in their own ways but by the end of the holidays they’re closer than they ever were. It takes even longer for Tom to open up, but he continues to slowly craft bridges and pull down his barriers. While school didn’t become any less of a stressful environment for the teen who had a bad case of impromptu monster physique, his friends did what they could to help.

Edd, Matt, Tom and Tord eventually graduate high-school and decide to buy a house to share. They bought the house before they realized some familiar faces lived in the neighboring house. Living together is more cost effective and gives them the opportunity to learn how to be (mostly) independent and functioning members of society. The group visit the Durdam mountains together over the holidays every year. Other than that, they go through all the shenanigans you all know and love. 

As for other graduates, Hellucard becomes a familiar face throughout the years. He always makes sure to say a friendly “Hey” to Edd when they cross paths. He’d lost contact with many of the A Team, telling Tom over drinks that the last he’d heard of them a couple of members never grew out of their vices and ended up murdered somehow.

Tom becomes more relaxed and eventually accepts his shifting ability, half-shifting liberally when he’s at home to take advantage of his abilities and feel more comfortable in his fully human skin when in public (sometimes fully transforming to burn off energy before leaving for his evening gig’s). The routine is quick to become part of the group’s normality. 

Tom and Tord continue to clash and have an on-again, off-again relationship for a little while as they navigate themselves through their young adult lives - their longterm future remaining to be seen with betrayal on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed!


End file.
